A Morning in the Forest

 A Morning in the Forest 

by Simon W

Ithil'lyn hadn't been sleeping well since the night the roots of Ren had burned. They'd tried to take advantage of the time by leaving their home before sunrise to pick herbs that were most potent in the darkness just before dawn and to mark the trees that needed to lose branches over the winter. They'd be back later to harvest the branches to ensure the trees would be healthy come spring. This morning they'd filled half their herb basket before finding a comfortable spot to sit and wait for sunrise. 

***

"Demons! Hide!" The fear in Palauta's voice had been palpable. Ithil'lyn hid, borrowed dagger in their left hand, even going so far as to hold their breath to be as invisible as possible. Every movement the other folks in the little group made made their skin craw. Please stop moving, they thought to themselves, but they didn't dare say anything for fear that even a whisper would betray them all. When those they were hiding from started talking, Ithil'lyn realized with sick dread that it wasn't demons. It was far worse; it was fellow Returned. 

***

A snuffling sound brought Ithil'lyn out of their thoughts. A fat bear had turned over a log nearby and was happily eating the grubs that had been under it. The bear paid zero attention to the motionless Effendal, confident in their belief that they were bigger and stronger. At another time that wouldn't have saved them, but Ithil'lyn didn't need any bear pelts for anything right now. Ithil'lyn just watched as the bear shuffled around and then eventually wandered off. 

"I'm sorry I'm failing you, Bear," whispered Ithil'lyn after they were alone once more, "I'm doing a lousy job of protecting hearth and home lately aren't I?" 

***

"Every sentient being on Adelrune needs to face the consequences of their actions, Levindicus! You don't get to be the one person that doesn't apply to; you're just not that special." He'd been trying to justify his reason for needing to escape death because he feared his soul was in peril. Ithil'lyn was so angry. But all of that anger disappeared in a flash when someone else wanted to harm him. They went from berating him to trying very hard to save his life in the matter of a blink. It hadn't worked.

***

"Quork?" Once again Ithil'lyn was brought back to reality by wildlife. This was a raven cocking its head and staring at them with its bright, knowing eyes. Ithil'lyn idly threw some of the jerky in their pocket that they kept specifically for such occasions at the bird. "I don't have anything for you besides food. I can't remember any of my dead who aren't Returned. Just please promise me that when it's my time You come for me instead of Eden, ok?" The raven blinked and cocked their head to the other side. "At this rate, You might be seeing me sooner than either of us expected." The raven chattered and flapped their wings at Ithil'lyn and then flew away. Was it just a bird startled by something Ithil'lyn couldn't hear yet, even with their sensitive hearing, or was it their God telling them that He disapproved of their fatalism? 

The forest was alive with chatter now that the sun was up properly. Ithil'lyn turned their face to the sky. Another day had started and that was supposed to be a new beginning. But everything felt like an ending right now. Still, people needed to be fed, clothed, and supplied. If nothing else would get them through their days, duty to their people would have to do. It was cold comfort. 

Self-Knowledge

Self-Knowledge 

by Simon W.  

"Let it fall to the Delfestrae to weigh pros and cons of what we know to be right"

The words of the First of House Kaelin echoed in Ithil’lyn’s head. They were finally home from the August gathering, away from the dust and chaos of Port Frey. Here in a little clearing in the forest they had made themselves a haven where no politics, Effendal or Port Frey, could touch them unless they allowed it.

Racks for drying herbs, a shed for curing wood, an entire workbench for tanning and curing leather, and a pile of stones made the space look exactly like what it was – a place where work was done. The only splash of color about the place was a small rosebush that Ithil’lyn had transplanted last autumn when they had found the clearing and decided to claim it. The red stood in stark contrast to the greens and browns they were surrounded by.

“I suppose I’m meant to feel ashamed,” Ithil’lyn said quietly to themselves. “My deepest apologies to the Perillinen but I’m not. The next time I do something without weighing the pros and cons will be… the second time.”

Ithil’lyn walked past all their various workspaces to a new set up. It was a stone and some wooden practice blades. They started going through a series of motions, warming up. They didn’t know if they had ever known how to wield weapons for anything other than hunting in their first life but when they had been convinced that the entirety of Port Frey wanted to kill Cecil, they decided that it was time to learn. The basics seemed to come almost naturally which made them think that someone had taught them this before. Blast this foggy memory!

Ithil’lyn practiced until sundown and then went to clean up in the small stream that burbled through the back of the clearing. While there they pondered all that had happened at the gathering although really there were only two things that stood out with perfect clarity. There was the trial and there was the name.

The trial had been… stress and drama and probably had aged Ithil’lyn by at least a hundred years. They were not entirely certain what the rest of Port Frey thought of the outcome. But it had suited them just fine. They were not interested in either executing or banishing fellow Effendal and feeling like either option had been on the table had been extremely uncomfortable. The sense of needing to circle around and defend one another was very strong. Strong enough that Ithil’lyn knew it had been instilled in childhood even if they had no specific memory of the lessons that imparted that knowledge.

The name would take getting used to. No, the name would be familiar in a few weeks. Vesryn’s absence would hurt for years. Ithil’lyn didn’t know why he felt the need to explore the death realms, but curiosity was certainly something they understood. Ithil’lyn just wished that he could have satisfied his curiosity in some way that was less… permanent. Still, he’d given them a gift and they were not going to return it.

Standing in the pale light of the half-moon, Ithil’lyn looked out to the forest. “Gods of the Old Ways, hear me. I have been renamed with the Ferryman Poppet’s power at the request of my friend, Vesryn, who now travels the death realms. I am Ithil’lyn, the Eviscerating Bloodstorm, of House Delfestrae”

They walked back to their work area from the stream. Tomorrow at dawn there would be more tasks to do. But for now they would sleep knowing that the Gods knew their name and that they knew exactly who they were for the first time in a long time.